


Wit

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [97]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Feeling Dumb, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I FUCKING HATE MATH, Standardized Tests, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, very low-stakes angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: “Sometimes the most brilliant and intelligent minds do not shine in standardized tests because they do not have standardized minds.”-Diane Ravitch
Relationships: pre-romantic Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: LAOFT Extras [97]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1365505
Comments: 36
Kudos: 479





	Wit

**Author's Note:**

> takes place chronologically after _the mirror crack’d from side to side_ but before _trying to heal a burn victim by drowning them_
> 
> Between this and Seasons I’m starting to wonder if every laoft character isn’t gonna get at least one vent fic just for them lol
> 
> also, since this IS a vent fic, I am actually bad at math, and I hope this isn’t too painful to slog through.
> 
> and thanks to my friend Vivi ([@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com)) for beta-reading (while sick, goodness gracious, ilysm) and for validating my inherent hatred of standardized tests

“Let’s try a word problem,”

Patton swallowed a little, plastering a smile on his face.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan!”

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched.

“My name isn’t Stan,” he said, “And I believe your level of dread is unnecessary,”

Patton shrugged, picking at the metal bit of his pencil.

“I suspect a word problem may be easier,” Logan explained, “Or at least, less intimidating than lines of numbers and letters,”

“… That makes sense,” Patton admitted.

“Alright,” said Logan, “Would you prefer to read the problem yourself, or for me to read it out loud?”

“Could you read it?”

“Of course,”

Logan sifted through the practice worksheets scattered around the kitchen table, picking one out and placing it flat between them.

“The problem reads: Carol is three times older than Andrew. Brad is two years older than Andrew. In six years, the sum of Andrew’s and Brad’s ages will be the same as Carol’s age. How old is Carol?”

Patton winced.

“Sounds more like a riddle than math,” he joked, “And I’m not any better at riddles,”

“Patton,”

“Sorry,” said Patton, “So, um- I have to make the sentences into equations first, right?”

“Correct,” said Logan, smiling, “Very good,”

“And, you know…” said Patton, trying to inject some more enthusiasm into his voice, “Their names are already A-B-C, that’s convenient,”

“A good point,”

Patton huffed out a breath.

“Okay, so… c is equal to three times a, and b is equal to… a plus two…”

Patton painstakingly wrote out each equation, combining them into one big one with – mercifully – only one variable. He solved for a, multiplied it by three, and scribbled the answer at the bottom.

“… Forty-two?” he said hesitantly.

Logan pulled the paper toward him, eyes flicking over the work.

A small frown came over his face.

“… Yeah,” said Patton, a little dully, “It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Your math was sound,” said Logan, “But- the equations. You added a six to account for the passage of years to both a and b, but not c, when you were constructing them,”

Patton’s stomach was twisting uncomfortably, tears pricking sharp and stinging behind his eyes.

“Would you like to try again on your own, or would you prefer I help you construct the equations?”

Patton let out a carefully even breath, tilting his head up and casting Logan a bright smile.

“Actually,” he said, voice full of forced cheer, “I’m kinda snack-y, do you wanna help me bake some cookies? We can make thumbprints,”

Logan nearly snapped to attention at the mention of his favorite cookies, but then his frown deepened.

“We agreed we would break at the half-hour mark. It has only been nineteen minutes,”

“… Yeah,” said Patton, and this time he was unable to hide the crack in his voice.

Logan’s focus narrowed entirely to Patton, his pale eyes bright and worried.

“Pat?”

“Yeah,” Patton repeated, “The thing is- the thing is, kiddo, I don’t- I don’t think this is really gonna make a whole lot of difference,”

Logan looked deeply confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… you _saw_ how bad I did on the practice one, last year,”

“I did,” confirmed Logan, “The teaching staff of Wickhills Public – barring my parents, of course – is, as always, woefully under-qualified for their positions,”

Patton gave him a watery smile.

“It’s not the teachers, Lo,” he said softly, “I’m just… I’m just not really very smart,”

There was a long pause, during which Logan was so still he resembled a statue of granite. His first movement was a dark, furrowed brow and a frown that bordered on a scowl.

“Excuse me?” he said, a little sharp.

Patton shrugged.

“It’s not… the end of the world if I’m a little dumb,” murmured Patton, “I just don’t really- think I’m smart enough to understand all this, and- and I don’t want you to have to sink a bunch of your free time into trying to help me with a test I’m gonna fail anyway-”

“ _Fuck_ the test,” said Logan angrily.

“Lo, language,” said Patton, startled.

“The test is figurative bullshit,” Logan continued, ignoring the comment, “They are unfair, nonobjective, unreliable and taught to an incredibly narrow curriculum that does not account for the individual skill sets or diversity of students,”

He was getting increasingly upset the longer he spoke, but Patton was too stunned to interrupt him.

“I am assisting you because you are my friend and this is a requirement, not because I think you _should_ have to take the test. You are one of the smartest people I know – the test results not reflecting that is a failure of the _test_ , not _you,”_

“I- you-”

Something was growing in Patton’s throat, a lump, almost like he was going to cry, but – warm. Almost … sparkling. Like he’d swallowed a whole pack of pop rocks that also lit up.

“You can’t- how are you saying that?” he said, strangled, “I’m _not_ smart,”

Logan looked _furious._

“Who told you that?” Logan demanded, “They’re an idiot. You are astonishingly intelligent,”

Sputtering, Patton went to shake his head, but Logan was already speaking again.

“You show levels of interpersonal intelligence that are, frankly, _astounding,_ considering the isolation you experienced as a child,” said Logan, “And existential intelligence, you give _remarkably_ good advice in a number of areas, including those you have never personally experienced. You are quite familiar with the workings of your family farm, both the plants and the animals, in spite of your difficulty with your allergies,”

He hesitated for the barest second.

“And you have very impressive musical intelligence,” said Logan, “Only very little of which can be attributed to your curse, as you never use it deliberately. You remember, I taught you polyrhythms in a single afternoon, and you play Roman’s miniature banjo-”  
“Banjolele,” said Patton faintly.

“-nearly as well as _he_ does, after only learning through observation,”

Logan’s scowl was still _furious,_ but his eyes were earnest and his voice almost pleading. He reached across the table to take Patton’s hand, squeezing firmly.

“I will repeat it as much as you need, and it _is_ an objective truth,” he said, “You are very smart, Patton. Anyone who said otherwise is using a faulty metric or blatantly lying,”

The pop-rocks feeling spread from Patton’s throat down into his chest, and out towards his fingers and toes until his whole body was warm and sparkling, and Patton should probably say _thank you_ or something, because Logan was giving him all sorts of compliments and being so unbearably sweet, but Patton couldn’t seem to make his voice work. And besides, what could he even _say_ that could possibly cover how _grateful_ and _flattered_ and _happy-happy-happy_ Patton was, nothing seemed like _enough_ except to maybe lean over and just _kiss_ him-

Wait.

Oh.

Patton was already blushing, but now his face was outright burning.

Kiss? That’d be weird right? Did he really want to kiss Loga- yes. Yep, yeppers, he _definitely_ did.

Patton grabbed that thought very tight, crammed it in the think-about-later-box, and gave Logan a tremulous smile.

“… Thanks, Lolo,” he said softly.

Logan turned a little pink around the ears, looking toward the worksheets.

“Well- you are welcome, I suppose, even if you do not have to thank me for stating objective truths,” he muttered.

He tapped the eraser of his pencil several times on the table.

“I know we agreed on half an hour,” he said, “But if you are distressed I would rather prioritize that. And we can make brown sugar cookies, those are _your_ favorite,”

“Actually,” said Patton, “I think… I think I _do_ want to try again,”

Logan watched him carefully.

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, Patton picked up the pencil.

“Can you check my equations? When I’m done?”

“Of course,”

Patton wrote them out, and Logan gave him a solemn thumbs up this time. Carefully (and much slower than Patton thought was okay but he didn’t wanna make _any_ mistakes) Patton solved for a and multiplied by three.

“Twenty-four?” he said, holding his breath.

Logan grinned, and Patton’s breath caught in his chest like a pinned butterfly.

“Exactly,” said Logan, “And you didn’t need me to write the equations. You did very well,”

Lunging across the space between their chairs, Patton wrapped his arms tight around Logan’s shoulders, tucking his face in Logan’s neck and trying not to sniffle with all the overwhelming feelings wiggling around in his chest.

Logan squeezed back, pressing his cheek to the side of Patton’s hair, and Patton thought he might have nuzzled there just a bit.

They sat like that for a long moment, swaying in their chairs a little.

“… If anybody attempts to tell you that you are not intelligent,” said Logan slowly, “I would appreciate being informed,”

Giggling, Patton shifted back a little to look up at Logan, who was wearing a very unconvincing innocent expression.

“Oh, really?” said Patton, amused, “Why’s that?”

“… Am I required to answer the question?”

Patton laughed outright, and Logan cracked a smile that made Patton’s heart swell in his chest and suddenly every heartbeat sounded like _loveyou-loveyou-loveyou,_ and-

Well. That didn’t have to go _right_ into the think-about-later-box, did it?

So Patton just curled back in his best friend’s hug, and tried his best to believe he was smart.

After all – Logan was the smartest person _Patton_ knew.

He had to be onto something.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me over on tumblr at [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinallsortofcolors.tumblr.com)!


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